


Criminal Tango

by missingnolovefic



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Assassination, Ballroom Dancing, F/M, Fake AH Crew, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intrigue, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic
Summary: A new player arrives on the scene. Gavin is utterly fascinated.Good thing it takes two to tango.





	Criminal Tango

**Author's Note:**

> A collaboration with Sky <3 I wrote the story, they drew the art. Link to their post will be in the end notes!
> 
> [Kriminaltango by Hazy Osterwald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=woJPE1VCDn0) inspired the title and plot.

There was a long pause after he answered the video call that had Gavin looking up, suspecting connection issues. After all, their internet had been spotty lately, even with the crew paying off people at the top for access. Gavin suspected the Corpirate was buying off people elsewhere to interfere with their business. But Geoff was staring at him through the screen, eyes going squinty, and Gavin waved a hand in front of the camera. Geoff kept staring at him with a frown.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he finally exclaimed, causing Gavin to sputter. “That’s not the tux I gave you!”

“No, it’s the white Italian suit from Dio’s,” Gavin replied and rolled his eyes as Geoff pressed a hand to his chest. “Besides, it suits the location,” he added, tugging on the cuffs before pausing, looking Geoff straight in the eyes. “Pun very much _not_ intended. Please don’t tell Jeremy.”

Geoff waved him off impatiently. “Why aren’t you wearing the tux? It’s a classic!”

“And this is sleek and modern,” Gavin retorted, fussing with his hair. “Besides, Favreau wouldn’t know class if it mugged him in a back alley.”

Geoff shot him an unimpressed look. “Your tie is crooked.”

“I’m just saying, Geoffrey.” Gavin straightened his golden tie, then smoothed down the brocade vest. “It’s a bit on the nose, innit? Hosting a party for thieves and conmen and all other sorts of quality folks right across from the Louvre? Tacky.”

“Your face is tacky,” Geoff grumbled, leaning back in his chair until his face was partially obscured by the shadows. Gavin arched a brow at his laptop, unfazed. “Don’t spill any wine. Do you know how high the cleaning bill is for a fucking snow-white suit?”

Gavin scoffed. “I can just buy another one, Geoff, quit bitching, Geoff.”

“It’s designer! Express tailored to your lanky ass! If you won’t wear the tux I got you, at least show some respect!” Geoff squawked, leaning forward to glare at him through the screen. Gavin shrugged, rummaging through his makeup bag. He’d already applied the foundation and highlighter and all that jazz. All that was missing was a little… _pizazz_.

“I’m just saying, Favreau is out of his damn mind. Dunno if we should agree to anything longterm when he’s spiralling out like that - he’s either gonna get in trouble thinking he’s invulnerable, or he’s already in deep shit and this is his last big hurrah.”

He bent down to bring his face right in front of the webcam as he brushed a fair amount of golden, glittery eyeshadow onto his lids.

“No, you’re right, that’s a bad sign. Try to put him off till the private meeting for negotiations, keep it vague- Hey!” Geoff shouted indignantly, face pulling into a grimace. “Use a fucking mirror, dickhead, I don’t need to count your fucking lashes!”

“Aww, Geoff, but Geoff-” Gavin pulled back a bit and bat said lashes at him. “Am I not your pretty boy?”

“Pretty stupid, if you ask me,” Geoff grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. Gavin pouted. “Christ, yes, you’re pretty. Anyone who can see past that big nose of yours will swoon. There, happy?”

“Geoff, that’s not a compliment, Geoff.”

“Well, dickhead, I don’t fucking care, dickhead,” Geoff shot back, sticking out his tongue. Gavin giggled. “Okay, but seriously, be careful. Rumour is the Corpirate’s gonna be there personally.”

“It’s not like he can do anything in public,” Gavin snorted, leaning back in to add liquid gold eyeliner. “It’s not his style either.”

“He’s had it out for us for years,” Geoff disagreed, crossing his arms. “And he’s been gunning for our territory these last two months. I wouldn’t put it past him.” He paused, and Gavin took the time to blend his makeup properly. Geoff piped up just as he finished. “You missed a spot.”

“Piss off, Geoffrey,” Gavin grumbled, but duly checked his eyes over. Everything was in place, and he sent Geoff’s smug face an annoyed look. “And stop worrying, you mother hen. Next thing we know, you’ll move to a chicken farm and start clucking.”

As Gavin started making bird noises at him, Geoff threw up his hands in defeat.

“Fine! Do whatever you want, see if I care!” He crossed his arms and leaned back to sulk. Gavin blew him a kiss. “You better call the moment you’re back at the hotel. And no bloodstains!”

“Of course not,” Gavin said with an affronted look. “Who do you take me for, Ryan?”

Then he smirked, giving the webcam one last wink before hanging up on Geoff, just as the man opened his mouth to retort. God only knew how long he could blather on when he was worrying, but Gavin needed to be fashionably late, not show up past midnight.

The ballroom was brightly lit, decorated in reds and golds and silvers. A string quartet was playing ambient music, and a number of guests were already mingling. Gavin grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, eyes wandering over the crowd. He recognized a lot of faces amongst them. Famous thieves and Dons, almost all the big players from Europe, and then some from across the pond. Even more people who were having their fifteen minutes of fame for this and that con they’d pulled off within the last couple months.

Gavin sipped on his drink and made his way over to Favreau, who was most definitely losing his mind.

“Bonsoir, Pierre,” Gavin said as he joined a small group gathered around the host. He gave the others a brief look and a nod.

“Ah, Gavin! I was wondering if you would make it.” Favreau smiled brightly, opening up his arms. His hair was going grey, or maybe he’d stopped dyeing it black. Stress was written into his face, except for where the botox kept the skin stiff. Gavin stepped up and kissed the air on either side of Favreau’s cheek. “‘Ow was your trip? I ‘ear you’ve been spending more and more time in ze Americas!”

“Boring as most flights,” Gavin replied and forced himself to grin. “Nothing compared to the work.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose zat gets boring for one flying as often as you,” Favreau teased, and Gavin had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “Now, we ‘ave all night to catch up. Why don’t you go say ‘ello to your American sweetheart, hm?”

He followed Favreau’s finger to where Barbara was making small talk with one of the Dons. This time, he didn’t hold back an annoyed sigh.

“Not my girlfriend, Pierre,” Gavin drawled with the tone of the long-suffering, then shot him a quick grin. “I would be so lucky.”

Favreau laughed, just as fake as his teeth, and waved him off.

He knew Barbara was coming on Burnie’s behalf, of course. They’d kept in contact. Used to work together before Geoff set his eyes on Los Santos and Gavin decided to follow him. Now they exchanged information, bragged about heists and pranks in equal measure, and kept each other on their toes. It was easy enough to sidle up next to her, greeting the Don with a nod but not interrupting.

Once she’d politely extricated herself from the conversation and the Don moved on, Barbara turned around and hugged Gavin with a warm smile.

“Careful,” Gavin laughed, keeping his glass of champagne well away from Barbara’s body. “You don’t want me to spill this all over your lovely dress.”

“Oh, shut up,” Barbara scoffed, slapping his shoulder gently. “I haven’t seen you in ages, asshole.”

“Kept busy,” Gavin shot back, grabbing a flute from a passing waitress and offering it to Barbara. “You know how it is.”

“Sadly, yes,” Barbara sighed, shaking her head with a crooked smile. She took a long drink, and Gavin watched her sharply. She seemed tired.

“Quite the party, innit?” he ventured, pitching his voice just loud enough to carry to curious ears. The more they thought they caught, the less they would wonder what else was said. “And in Paris, as well. Have you been to France before?”

“Once,” Barbara admitted carelessly, but her eyes were hooded. “Can’t say it’s quite my place.” Then she lowered her voice. “There’s almost been a shoot-out already, between the guy from Belgium and the lady from Amsterdam.”

Gavin hummed in agreement. “Favreau’s invited all the big names, without thought to tensions and politics.”

“It’s not gonna end well,” Barbara prophesied under her breath, before taking another drink from her champagne. Gavin nodded in acknowledgement.

“Better not get drunk, then,” he said in a normal voice, eyes gleaming mischievously as he plugged her half-empty glass out of her hands. He set it on the tray of a passing waiter. “You owe me a dance, Ms Dunkelman.”

“Fuck you, Free,” Barbara replied loudly and grabbed a full glass from the same tray. Several people turned to glance at them, and Barbara bared her teeth in an amiable smile. “I don’t dance, and you know it. Go find someone else to humiliate, you show-off.”

They chattered on for a while, exchanging pleasantries and observations, friendly ribbing and secrets hidden in the subtext.

“Oooh, boy,” Barbara said suddenly, nodding towards the entrance. Gavin followed Barbara’s look. A man in his forties just walked in, brown hair slicked back and what looked like a young debutante on his arm. “I wonder if Brown and Miller had a falling out. She’s younger, too. Ouch.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Gavin murmured, taking a sip from his champagne to hide his frown. Jacky Brown and Baby Miller had been partners for decades now and controlled the New York crime scene with a steel vice. If anything happened to their partnership, he should have _known_.

The young brunette on Brown’s arm walked with a self-assured grace, head held high and a coy smile on her lips. She didn’t quite ignore the curious looks, but didn’t meet them head on either. The high slit of her dress revealed the fact she wasn’t carrying any guns, lending to the general air of inexperience she emitted. She certainly made an effort to affect a demure demeanour. But something about the way she surveyed the room felt _off_.

“She’s pretty, eh?” Barbara drawled, nudging his side with her bony elbow. Gavin gave her a nonplussed look. “You’re staring, Gav.”

“I don’t think she’s here as arm candy, Barb,” Gavin shot back, cheeks feeling hot. She _did_ have nice legs, even with the lack of a thigh holster. He glanced around and saw the other guests dismissing her, though, focussing on Brown. Favreau didn’t even spare her a look as he greeted the crime boss. “Maybe you should leave early. Something’s gonna go down tonight.”

“You think?” Barbara snarked, gesturing to where two feuding Dons were talking, their bodyguards tense and ready to draw their guns. Then she gave the brunette another thoughtful once-over. “Don’t think I’ll leave you alone with this ticking time bomb. Besides, Burnie would never let me hear the end of it.”

“You’re just hoping for blackmail, aren’t you?” Gavin gave her a dry look. Then he sighed. “Well. Better start schmoozing.”

Barbara clapped his shoulder. “Go get her, tiger.”

Shooting his smirking friend a glare, Gavin huffed and downed the rest of his drink, handing the glass to a passing waitress. He never liked mingling much at these kinda parties, but he was there to network after all. Making his rounds across the room, stopping to greet old acquaintances and make small talk with new ones, all the while keeping an eye on Brown and his companion. Miller didn’t show up.

It took him a good hour to get through the crowd at a natural pace that left him standing with a small group Brown was approaching purely by chance, looking not at all planned. Brown didn’t seem to notice as he joined the conversation, but his companion gave Gavin a knowing look and a secretive smile. He smiled back guilelessly, suppressing the triumphant feeling swelling in his chest. He _knew_ she was more than she seemed.

“-your partner? I can’t help but notice Mrs Miller’s absence.”

“Sadly she has prior obligations that keep her away,” Brown said with a small, secretive smile that rang all the alarm bells in Gavin’s head. “Ms Turney was kind enough to agree to accompany me in her stead.”

Turney lifted a hand to hide her mouth and giggled. “Please, call me Megan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mumbled greetings made the rounds, and Gavin couldn’t help but notice how Turney’s sharp eyes seemed to miss nothing. Not the disapproval sent her way nor the easy dismissal, leaving the corners of her mouth quirked up, as if bemused. And Gavin, well. He couldn’t help but wonder.

“How are you enjoying France, then?” he asked her, raising a brow. “Have you been here before?”

“Not in Paris,” she answered evasively, taking a sip from her drink. She tilted her head and grinned. “I’m afraid my French is a bit rusty. Bonjour, bonsoir, pardon, excusez-moi…”

Gavin grinned back. “Ca va?”

“Ca va.” Turney gave him an amused look and raised her glass in a toast. “You speak French?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Un peau,” Gavin replied cheekily, clinking their glasses together. “Just a  little. I’m rusty, too. Not enough to talk business, definitely.”

“Sounds like there’s a story behind that,” she returned, batting her lashes. Gavin’s grin turned wry. Of course he wasn’t the only one digging for information.

“Let’s just say Pierre doesn’t appreciate anyone butchering ‘his’ beautiful language,” Gavin said, glancing around. Brown had the other guests in their little circle thoroughly distracted. No one seemed to pay the two of them any attention. Time for a little test. He leaned down, murmuring into Turney’s ear, “I’m afraid he’s a bit of a pillock.”

Turney snorted loudly, hastily turning it into a delicate cough.

“That’s one way to put it,” she mumbled under her breath. She cut him a sly sideways look. “He, uh, had a rather condescending air to him when we went to say hello.”

Gavin hummed. “Rather useful if you want to be underestimated, though.” He watched the small smile stretch over her lips as he sipped from his champagne. It was rather stale after an hour of being used as a prop.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she demurred, rising her own glass to hide her amusement. As she surveyed the room, her head tilted in his direction. “But I’m sure you would know, hm?”

“Well,” Gavin sighed, brushing his arm against hers purely on coincidence. “Used to work for me. Not as much since my crew went and made a name for itself, but before that… Well. Things change.”

Turney grimaced sympathetically. “That would rather draw more attention than would be ideal,” she agreed in a commiserating tone. “But there must be more than enough idiots out there to still fall for it.”

“Oh, they do,” Gavin admitted freely, shooting her a bemused smile. “Not as many, granted, but with a bit of a show, even experienced people tend to fall for a pretty face. Case in point.” He tipped his glass at her and arched a brow. Satisfaction flashed in her eyes for a second. Then she blinked, and her expression turned back into the naive mask she’d worn all evening.

“Tell me, Mr. Free. I’ve heard you are quite fond of hypothetical scenarios.” She shot him a dazzling smile with too many teeth. Gavin straightened. “If you wanted to kill a man - just hypothetically, of course - at this party without getting caught… How would you do it?”

“Hypothetically,” he returned dryly, giving her a long look. Turney just blinked guilelessly. “I would probably bring back-up for one. Mogar or the Vagabond, maybe.”

“That’d be very noticeable, though,” Turney pointed out. “If you didn’t want anyone to make the connection…”

“I’d hire a third party,” Gavin murmured, eyes sliding over to Brown. He emptied his glass and put it on one of the side tables. “Why, Ms Turney… are you implying I should be on the lookout?”

But Turney just grinned up at him playfully, putting her mostly full glass down next to his.

“Why yes, Mr. Free. I’d love to dance.” She cocked her head as the slow fox faded out and the violin picked up a new rhythm. Her lips twitched. “If you know how to tango, that is…?”

“Why, that sounds like a challenge to me,” Gavin returned, offering her an arm with a grin. “Shall we?”

Only two other couples occupied the dancefloor, leaving them more than enough room for some fancy figures. Gavin led Turney to one corner and took position, left arm stretched out and hand holding hers, the other one on her back. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and shot him a grin, before leaning back and waiting for her cue.

A step. Forward, rocking back, forth, back-

Turney followed his lead gracefully, soft under his hands. He caught himself staring at the perfect arch of her neck, a single curl of hair grazing her shoulder. Gavin opened into a promenade, and Turney’s head snapped around, sharp and perfectly on beat. They crossed the length of the dancefloor, before he led her into a open reverse turn with her on the outside, ending in three quick swivels. Her dress flared as she turned sharply, only settling when Gavin pulled hard, their bodies colliding.

He caught her eyes.

“A third party, you said.”

Turney smirked, turning her head away as they moved on.

“Not a warning,” she murmured, and Gavin relaxed a little. He led her into a four step, waiting for the couple next to them to move on. “Call it… a hint. A clue, if you prefer.”

There was a spark in her eyes that fascinated him. It was a shame that tango required the lady to look to the side because he could stare into her eyes for hours. Instead, he had a perfect view of her arched neck and the jewelry adorning her ear. Gavin closed the promenade.

“You’re plotting something,” he pointed out.

“Why, whatever makes you think that?” She batted her eyes at him, grinning.

“Call it intuition,” he replied dryly.

Her lipstick was very red. It kept catching him off-guard, drawing his eyes. Or maybe he just really wanted to kiss her, considering how unfairly attractive she was. Quick-witted, beautiful _and_ a good dancer. Her dark hair framed her pale face in gentle curls, her deep brown eyes gleaming in the bright light. She turned smoothly at the smallest nudge, didn’t miss a beat as he lead her into another promenade. The golden neckholder of her dress glinted as she turned her head, the purple folds swishing around her legs.

A beat. He pulled her in, took a step back. Valentino. Their eyes met. A pause, then several quick steps. A flare of her skirts, and they stood facing each other again.

“How would you go about offing someone in the middle of a party, then?” Gavin couldn’t help but ask, against his better judgement. Turney hummed. He flipped her to his other side, both of them facing the crowd as they rocked, before guiding her in a slow circle and back into position.

“I suppose I’d need an alibi first,” she whispered under her breath. Her knee pressed against his. “Like, say. Find a respected gentleman to dance with.”

“Not many options in a place like this. I don’t count, certainly,” Gavin drawled as they circled around the dancefloor to a violin solo. “But let’s assume you found one. What next?”

He twirled her from his right to his left, and then back again. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her shake out her left arm as if it had gone numb, before she lifted it back up to his shoulder. Except this time, instead of holding it like a knife-hand with the palm downward, she laid her flat palm over his shoulder blade. Something hard pressed against his skin beneath Turney’s hand.

“You need a partner, and a cue.” She leaned in, lips brushing over his cheek. “By the end of the solo, dip me.”

Gavin didn’t have much time to protest. He whirled them around, cut the corner-

Turney’s leg hooked around his thigh. Holding on to her tightly, he dipped her. A beat, and the rest of the string quartet joined the violin.

Suddenly, everything went dark.

A shout. Gavin tensed, but didn’t drop Turney. He felt her move in his arms, her weight shifting. Then her hand was back on his shoulder, just as the emergency lights flickered on. Gavin stared down into her face, a calm mask settling over her features.

“Keep dancing,” she hissed.

So he pulled her back up and guided her into another four step. The music continued for another moment, before the musicians started to falter and then came to a stop. Whispers broke out among the crowd, and then yelling. They’d made it all the way to the next corner of the dancefloor when Gavin finally let go of Turney. He watched her carefully, before turning his head to glance over his shoulder.

Bodyguards started pulling guns. Several were already pointing wildly at the crowd. And there in the middle between them, lay a crumpled figure on the floor. Gavin pushed Turney behind him and grabbed his golden pistol, eyeing the commotion warily.

“Whoops,” Turney giggled quietly behind him.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Favreau bustle his way through the crowd. The bodyguards only parted reluctantly for the host of the party, closing ranks behind him. Turney tapped his shoulder lightly.

“A gentleman would escort the lady back to her date,” she offered dryly. Gavin snorted.

“By all means.” He held out his arms. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your first impression of me.”

Brown was standing with a group of people far away from where the shouting started escalating. Gavin was very aware of Turney’s hand on his arm as he led her over.

“Ah, there you are, Megan,” Brown greeted them. He nodded at Gavin. “Mr. Free. Sadly, we’ll have to cut this lovely evening short. If you’ll excuse us-”

“One last question,” Gavin interrupted Brown, turning to Turney. He lifted her hand and bowed over it in a courtier's kiss. “How did you do it?” he murmured in a low voice.

“Why, Mr. Free.” Turney’s eyes glinted mischievously. She flipped over her hand, pressing something into his palm. Gavin pulled his hand away, pocketing the slim object. Hard paper, square and small. “A magician never reveals her tricks. It would shatter the illusion.”

She winked and blew him a kiss, before linking her arm with Brown’s. Gavin watched them leave, staring at the sway of her hips, the swish of her dress, and wondered where she’d hit the weapon. What _did_ she use? It was too dark to see. He let himself be drawn closer to the shouting, the curious crowd leaving a sizeable gap between them and the panicked bodyguards.

Gavin caught a glimpse of the emblem on their suits and his brow rose in surprise. The Corpirate’s people. A quick glance around, but he couldn’t see the man himself anywhere. Which either meant he’d left during the commotion or-

“What’s happening,” Gavin whispered as Barbara sidled up to his side, visibly armed. He wondered where she’d hid the shotgun - or how she got that through customs in the first place.

“Someone killed the Corpirate,” she replied under her breath. “Knife to the throat or through the eye, people are already disagreeing on that. Went down during the blackout so no one knows who did it.”

“Bet they’re already accusing each other.” Gavin’s lips twitched up. Barbara sent him a sharp look.

“You know who did it,” she stated quietly. Gavin grinned and tilted his head. A flash of purple at the doors. Turney hustled Brown out of the ballroom.

“Looks like Brown left early. Guess Miller never showed.”

“You are so besotted with that girl,” Barbara teased, but her sharp eyes surveyed the crowd. She laid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “They have the right of it, though. If this mess doesn’t explode in the next five minutes, I’ll eat a moose.”

“Too bad they’ll never find out who did it,” Gavin drawled. Barbara rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” she muttered, steering him towards the exit. Gavin chuckled.

The streets were quiet compared to the hushed alarm at the party. They strolled down the sidewalk, taking in the city by night. It was a warm evening.

“Why do you think Brown had the Corpirate assassinated?” Gavin asked, breaking the silence. Barbara turned her head, watching him from the corners of her eyes.

“An assassin?” she inquired mildly. Gavin hummed agreeably. “Alright. If I had to guess? The Corpirate’s been expanding his operations regardless of territory lines. And the heads couldn’t do much, because he was hiding behind that corporate farce.”

“Geoff was ready to kill him,” Gavin agreed.

“Burnie was ready to _call a truce_ with the Lost,” Barbara stated quietly. Gavin inhaled sharply. The Lost were their major rivals in all of San Andreas. Such a decision wasn’t made lightly. “So yeah. Pretty bad.”

“We should track down the Corpirate’s connections to New York,” Gavin mused. Barbara nodded.

“I’ll give Mariel a call, see what she knows.” They walked a block in silence, before Barbara spoke up again, “So what’s up with your girl, eh?”

“ _Barbs_ ,” Gavin groaned, rubbing a palm over his face. Barbara laughed. “I told you, she’s a hired assassin.”

“You sure?” Barbara asked teasingly, grinning up at him. Gavin nodded firmly. Barbara snorted. “Figures. You always liked them dangerous.”

Gavin groaned again, long and plaintive.

“What? It’s true!” Barbara’s eyes were gleaming. “Should have figured what she was when you went head over heels for her at first sight.”

“Please don’t tell Michael?” Gavin whined. Barbara cackled. “Please? I’ll owe you a favour.”

“You already owe me two, Gav,” Barbara waved him off. “No, this is too juicy to keep to myself. Besides, Burnie’s gonna tell Geoff anyway.”

“ _Barb_.” Gavin pouted. “Don’t be mean, Barb.”

“Hmmm… I’ll think about it.”

“ _Barbara_.”

Well. If she was gonna be like that. He’d just forget to tell her that _he_ totally got the assassin’s contact info.

Knowing Barb, she’d just tease him mercilessly anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback welcome, here or on [my tumblr!](http://miss-ingno.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Here's the [link to the art](http://squigglysky.tumblr.com/post/173334020593/criminal-tango-why-yes-mr-free-id-love-to) by the lovely Squigglysky.


End file.
